


dive into you

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The week before Erica and Boyd run away together, Erica asks Stiles to teach her how to drive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dive into you

**Author's Note:**

> i was just browsing tumblr today and i was hit with the sudden and debilitating realization that i cannot exist in a world where erica never learned how to drive. and then i started thinking about how the only person she could possibly go to is stiles, since derek is obviously not an option (or wasn't at the time this would have taken place) and i was hit with all of the feelings.
> 
> takes place during season two. before erica and boyd ran away, but AFTER they confronted derek about it. shhhh, pretend that makes sense, okay? i'm taking some jeff davis liberty here with that timeline in particular. 
> 
> ironically, like erica, i know next to nothing about driving. is the jeep automatic or manual? i have no fucking clue.

The week before Boyd and Erica run away, Stiles teaches her how to drive.

Stiles is sitting at his desk, trying to complete his homework for Mr. Harris’ class before the world inevitably goes to shit again--because this is Stiles’ life, and it’s now infested with broody werewolves and their dumb, sort of adorably dysfunctional packs--when his phone vibrates where it’s sitting on his desk. He wants to ignore it, and manages to for five seconds before the guilt of possibly accidentally missing some sort of supernatural crisis eats at him too much.

_What are you doing right now?_

It’s from Erica. Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, and hastily replies,

_homework...why?_

Stiles is not sure how to describe their relationship. It’s gotten better since the day she cornered him outside of Boyd’s house to hit him over the head with parts of his baby--she’s since apologized, and while that had been an awkward situation for everyone (unsurprisingly, regret is an emotion that is incredibly unsettling on Erica’s face, one that bothered Stiles enough that he stopped her mid apology and told her not to worry about it) it didn’t exactly _fix_ ****anything, either. They’re not close enough to be considered friends, but they’re in too deep to simply just be allies.

It is, unfortunately, not one of Stiles’ weirder relationships.

_So, nothing important then. I’ll be over in 10._

Stiles firmly decides that he really doesn’t want to know, and with a sigh, he tries to finish as much homework as he can. 

He has a feeling he won’t be getting much done, later. 

*

Erica vaults through his open window.

He’s not really surprised.

“Is it like, werewolf code to not use doors? Do they personally offend you? Is it the color? I told my dad that red didn’t go with the house, but he was in his experimental home decor stage at the time, so I really couldn’t control him,” Stiles tuts, because _that_ had been a stage that Stiles is so glad is over. He does not want to deal with angry home store management again; why they couldn’t understand that it’s not his fault his father went on a buying binge without his permission is beyond him, truly.

“Shut up,” Erica says, breezily, though it lacks her usual bite and plops down onto his bed.

She looks nervous. Stiles has seen her look nervous plenty of times before, back before she was bitten. She practically excreted anxiety back then, when everything was normal and she would have seizures in front of the class. It’s unnerving to think that the girl whose hand he held when she had a seizure during school freshman year is the same girl who is sitting in front of him now, impossibly gorgeous for someone who just jumped through a second story window in middle of a summer rainstorm. Stiles is sort of, petulantly, infinitely jealous.

Fuck werewolves and their unnatural beauty.

“Spit it out, Erica.”

She’s quiet for a while. Stiles decides he doesn’t like her when she’s quiet.

He almost thinks she’s not going to say anything, but then she looks up at him through her eyelashes (fuck, when did she get so beautiful--not that she always hasn’t been, because she has, even before the change, she was) and says, small and unconfident, and so unlike the Erica he’s used to, “I want you to teach me how to drive.”

“What.”

 She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. “I want you to teach me how to drive,” she repeats, a little more confidently this time.

Stiles blinks. “Yeah, I got that part,” he says, because that’s not the part that he’s having trouble with. It’s the whole, Erica wanting him to teach her thing that he’s having a difficult time wrapping his head around. “But, why me?”

Erica shrugs. “You seemed like the best option.”

“What about Derek?” Stiles suggests, though he winces right after. 

“Derek and I...” Erica trails off, her face closes impossibly, and her eyes turn cloudy. Stiles doesn’t even want to begin to analyze that, though he totally does. “We’re...not on the best of terms right now.”

“Isn’t he your alpha though?” Stiles asks, and then adds, with an awkward wave of his hand. “Isn’t it his, like, supernatural duty to provide for you and teach you shit like this?”

Erica shrugs, “Sure,” she says, in a way that sounds completely opposite. “But, I’m not asking Derek. I’m asking you. So, will you?” 

Stiles almost says no. Stiles _should_ say no, because he really can’t do this right now. Not in between the entire Jackson debacle, and trying to protect his best friend and Derek’s wayward pack--they really can’t fend for themselves these days, not that Stiles blames them, really, because it’s not like their example for leadership is exactly the best one; Stiles knows Derek tries, okay, he does, but the fact still stands that the guy kind of sucks at being a leader. And by kind of, Stiles means _seriously._  

So, he should say no, that’s what any self-respecting person would do. 

Stiles has never been all too self-respecting, so what comes out is,

“Okay.” 

Stiles pretends that Erica’s answering smile doesn’t light up the room.

*

It’s only after Stiles agrees that he realizes the only vehicle they have access to is his own.

Erica hasn’t been exactly kind to his jeep in the past.

He is so not okay with this.

*

She’s hilariously bad at it, at first.

The situation is just bad in general, though, because as much as Stiles wants to help her--and he does, because this is something that Stiles can give to her without the imminent promise of death or extensive bodily harm; this is something normal and human and it’s also something that she couldn’t have access to before the bite, not in her previous condition--he knows how illegal this is.

His dad could totally arrest him for this if he found out, and he would. Let it be known that his father isn’t exactly known for resisting playing on his dark, twisted sense of humor.

“You're really bad at this,” Stiles says, but it comes out amused, because he is. Amused, he means. He’s amused that he’s spending his Saturday night with a werewolf who he previously thought wanted nothing to do with him, trying to teach her the difference between the letters ‘R’ and ‘P’ on his Jeep’s gearshift.  

“Shut up,” she growls, but it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s frowning at the dashboard like if she glares hard enough it’ll suddenly all make sense to her.

He sort of finds it adorable. Erica is all sorts of adorable, actually. 

Not that Stiles would ever say that to her. 

He’s sure she’d find someway to take that as an insult.

“Just relax,” he says, and then points to the gearshift again. “‘R’ means reverse, ‘P’ is park.”  

“I know that, dipshit,” Erica says. 

“Ah, there’s the Erica we all know and love,” Stiles remarks sarcastically, and settles back into his seat. “Then what’s the issue?”

Erica bares her teeth, but she stopped being intimidating to him a while ago, really. She drops the bravado though, and her mouth draws into a thin line. “I’m not sure if I can do this.”

Stiles softens, because he understands being nervous about it. “Hey,” he says, awkwardly, because he’s always been horrible at comforting people. With Scott, it’s been easy, since they’ve always had an unspoken agreement to Never Talk About It, and all he had to do was offer up an xbox controller and engage in a weekend long CoD marathon to fix things. Erica is more complicated though. 

He has a feeling this isn’t just about the driving. 

“You’ll do great, okay? And if you don’t, then we’ll stay here until you do.” 

Stiles isn’t sure why he says it, but he means it.

Erica looks at him with an expression that he can’t read, like she’s trying to figure him out--which is impossible on a good day, okay; Stiles gave up a long time ago on trying to make sense of anything going on in his head--and sighs.

“I just hope it’s worth it.”

“Learning how to drive?” Stiles asks, confused.

“Everything,” She says, ominous like only Derek’s pack can be. Truly, they’re all a righteous pain in his ass. 

A joke is on the tip of his tongue, but she beats him to the punch line. “‘R’ is for reverse, right?” 

Even though he knows she already knows, he nods anyway. 

He has a feeling she needs this.

*

They spend four hours on the back roads of Beacon Hills that night, cramped in the small confines of Stiles’ jeep. At one point, after Erica had a firm enough grip on driving that they didn’t need to practice anymore (“You’re going to pass your driving exam with flying colors,” Stiles had said, smiling at her, and Erica had only laughed sadly in return, like it was something that wouldn’t happen. Stiles hadn’t let it get to him then, but he should have) they went to the only diner in town that was still open, and gorged on enough breakfast food to feed an entire army. 

Erica’s laugh was still playing on loop in his head, even when he dropped into bed hours later, exhausted and happy, homework completely forgotten.

*

There’s a note on his bed, two days later, only saying,

_Thanks, Batman._

And, scribbled hastily underneath, broken and rushed, like she added it on a whim, is,

_See you on the flip side._

_Erica._  

Stiles assumes she means after she finally gets her license.

(He’s wrong.)

* 

Erica and Boyd are still missing. 

Stiles never forgives himself.

**Author's Note:**

> such an unimaginative title, i know. 
> 
> titles are the worst


End file.
